


Through My Eyes

by quillquiver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x10, First Kiss, Hugging, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, fluffy goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:10:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/quillquiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I prefer the word ‘trusting’,” Cas says, a soft smile on his face. “Less dumb. Less ass.”</p><p>What would have happened if Crowley hadn't interrupted?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuchFun_AreWe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuchFun_AreWe/gifts).



> **Prompt** : Additional scene from 9.10 that involves Dean and Cas hugging (possibly a first kiss?)

“I prefer the word ‘trusting’,” Cas says, a soft smile on his face. “Less dumb. Less ass.”

Dean huffs half a laugh, his own smile growing into something wider and more genuine. “Trusting,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Yeah, guess they’re one in the same.”

But this is not what Castiel means. “Not always,” the angel replies. “I’d trust you with my life any day. I have.”

Dean doesn’t say a word. His eyes have that far off look in them and he bites his lip, tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks before he scrubs a hand over his face. “You shouldn’t. You- look at Sam. Look at  _Kevin._ Everyone I’ve ever-” the hunter cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. “Can we just talk about you? Just- tell me more about you, man. Tell me anything. Everything.”

Cas steps forward, closing some of the distance between them. “Dean-”

“You know he’s right,” Dean says. “People around me, they just…” He clenches his teeth. “They turn to dust. Or worse.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel counters, voice more desperate. “Not everyone. Not me.” Because can’t Dean see? Can’t he see that he is exactly the opposite of everything he thinks he is? Can’t he see that he is the reason for so much more good than evil? He is and will always be the Righteous Man; the protector of the human race. Why can’t he see that? Why can’t he see how  _good_  and wonderful and beautiful he is?

Dean scoffs, looking Heavenward and clenching a fist. “You Fell for me,” he says finally. “I  _defiled_  you-”

“No,  _I_ defiled me.”

“I should’ve stayed in Hell.”

And then Cas is grabbing his jacket, pushing the hunter up against the wall with a bang. Crowley even pauses at the noise, calling to see if everything is okay. But Castiel doesn’t hear him. All Cas hears is blood rushing in his ears, made more intense by the return of a Grace as he forces Dean’s body against the wall with his own form, their legs slotted against each other’s. “Don’t you dare even  _think_  those words while in my presence,” Cas growls savagely. “What I did for you I would do ten thousand times over.”

“You’re lost,” Dean continues. “Ever since raising me from the Pit, you’ve been lost. I did that. I corrupted you.”

“Listen. Listen to me!” Castiel bites harshly, shaking the human in his grasp. “I was lost, yes. But not because of you. You  _found me_ , Dean. Wherever I am, however broken,  _you always find me_. And I will burn before I see you back in that place. D’you hear me? I will  _never_ let you go back. Never. No matter what happens, I will always come for you.” He jostles Dean once more for good measure and somehow they’re hugging, the contact warm and desperate as they clutch to each other. It’s quiet for a long time.

“Oh, my friend,” the angel says. “If only you could see yourself through my eyes.”

Dean can’t help it; he buries his face into Cas’ neck and cries.

He cries for a lot of things: for Sam and Kevin and Bobby and Ellen and Jo. For Mom and Dad. Pamela. Sarah. Anyone else he’s ever hurt. But mostly, he cries for Cas. Beautiful, kind, amazing Cas who he could never deserve.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Dean,” Cas whispers. “You never have to do anything alone.” Dean’s fingers tighten in the material of Castiel’s jacket, and the angel finds himself holding his hunter more tightly, awash with love and affection and pain for this man who is so completely broken. As a being denied of touch for so long, the angel cannot help but relish in it despite the bad circumstances, his mind working overtime to memorize this warmth, and contentment, and utter belonging.

Dean begins to pull away. Castiel almost cries out in protest, but he swallows the words past the lump in his throat, instead wiping the moisture from Dean’s cheeks with the pads of his fingers and the back of his hand. Cas feels Dean’s fingers curling into the hair at the base of his skull, and his heart skips a beat. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is Dean. It’s always been Dean. “You are so much more than you lead yourself to believe,” the angel breathes.

“Cas,” Dean says, his voice heartbreaking in its quiet desperation.

And Dean leans forward to kiss Castiel. It’s not much at first, just a touch of lips on lips that serves to communicate Dean’s love and appreciation better than his words ever could. But then he presses just a little more, pulls Cas in a little closer, and the angel truly is lost.

He’s lost in sensation.

“Cas, please.” Because Dean can’t understand why; why Castiel would say all of these wonderful things and just stand there without reciprocating. He's just about to die from rejection when Cas suddenly clues in.

The world no longer exists. 

Castiel moves his mouth against Dean’s, swallowing every little whimper and moan the hunter offers him while dishing out some of his own. They grab at each other in a way that is desperate but not chaotic; every movement is slow. Deliberate. Like the way Dean’s hand moves to cup the angel’s jaw and the way Cas presses him palm to the bare skin of the hunter’s back. Dean licks his way into Castiel’s mouth, sighing while Cas emits a blissed out sound of his own, brows knitting in sensory overload.

Eventually, they drift apart, still holding each other close; forehead-to-forehead, breath mixing in the minute space between their bodies. Every so often, they share soft kisses; the slow, loving nature of the contact completely at odds with the violence of the world around them.

“Laverne! Shirley! Get in here!”

Castiel immediately begins to disentangle himself, stopping short when Dean holds his chin lightly between thumb and forefinger. The hunter moves in to press the sweetest of kisses to Cas’ mouth, nudging his angel’s nose as they pull away, green eyes locked with blue.

_I love you._


End file.
